Mystère Breton par Mauwgan

Un ami américain m'a envoyé l'histoire d'un village breton, dont les habitants pendant la révolution assistaient à la Sainte Messe à coté de l'Eglise fermée. Rien de surprenant à part le fait que le prêtre qui l'offrait était en Angleterre. Quelqu'un aurait eu vent de ce fait. Quel est le nom du village?

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Voici le texte en anglais:

A Memory of Brittany

(The Ave Maria:A Magazine Devoted to the Honor of the Blessed Virgin

† Henceforth All Generations Shall Call Me Blessed †

VOL. LXV. NOTRE DAME, INDIANA JULY 6, 1907 NO. 1
[Published every Saturday. Copyright: Rev. D.E. Hudson, C.S.C.]
p. 19.

In the year 1793—the year of the great Revolution,—when every church in France had been closed by order of the Convention, a small Breton village refused to obey the decree issued by the government, and on every Sunday Mass was offered as usual in presence of a numerous congregation.

Several weeks passed and the pious Bretons began to think they were to be left unmolested, when an officer, escorted by gendarmes, appeared on the scene. Empowered with full authority, he ordered the church to be closed, and would fain have seized the curé had not the good priest, having received timely warning, succeeded in making his escape.

At an early hour the next morning—it happened to be Sunday—the officer, to his surprise, heard the bells ringing for Mass. Mounting his horse, he with his men rode down the village street and drew rein opposite the church. There a strange sight met their gaze; for the whole commune was assembled in the churchyard, praying devoutly, as though assisting as some sacred office.

“What are you doing here?” asked the officer of a pious old man.

“We are attending Mass. Our curé promised us before he left that every Sunday and feast-day, at this hour, he would offer the Holy Sacrifice for us, no matter where he might happen to be.”

The officer was amazed, but presently burst into a loud laugh.

“You must be very foolish,” he said, “to think you can hear Mass at any distance.”

“Prayer,” replied the peasant, gravely, “reaches from earth to heaven.”

Again the officer laughed scornfully.

“Do you mean to say that you believe yourselves to be in church?”

“This is a consecrated spot,” answered the old man, his voice ringing out clear amid the ominous silence; “for the bones of our fathers lie buried here.”

The officer would have spoken further, but a threatening murmur spread among the kneeling figures; and as he stood there undecided, three hundred or more resolute men rose to their feet with menacing gestures.

The representative of the Convention was a coward at heart. Casting one timorous glance around him, he took his departure, followed by his comrades, and left the Bretons in peace.

From that day the inhabitants of the village were entirely unmolested. Every Sunday they gathered in the churchyard to hear the Mass which was being said for them in England. They never ceased these meetings till the joyful day arrived when the exiled curé returned from over the sea, and the church was once more thrown open to public worship.

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